


The Crying List

by fem_castielnovak



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Castiel in the Bunker, Comfort, Crying Castiel, First Kiss, Fluff, Hugging, Human Castiel, M/M, Season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5488295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fem_castielnovak/pseuds/fem_castielnovak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on that <a href="http://mashable.com/2015/11/23/wife-crying-list/?utm_cid=mash-com-fb-main-link#tH0J8VF4RiqE">mashable article/imgur post</a> about the guy who kept track of what made his wife cry<br/>I swear this one isn't crack, but it is <em>incredibly</em> fluffy<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Crying List

 

 

Dean leans back in his chair and clicks his pen twice.  
Then he clicks it a third time.  
And a fourth.  
And a fifth.

When he gets to eleven Sam shuts the book he’s reading. It doesn’t even phase Dean who continues to stare intently at the pad of paper in front of him. He clicks the pen again.

“Okay, what are you writing? Er, not writing. Since you’re too busy clicking that pen to use it.”

“A list,” Dean keeps staring at the paper without clicking the pen but he continues to hold it threateningly.

“…Of?”

“Of reasons that Cas has cried.”

Sam is used to a lot of strange things when it comes to Dean and Cas. But _this_ , this is new.

“Is this something you’ve always paid attention to?”

Dean looks up at him with a funny face, “Uh, no. He never cried until he became human.”

“Well, I thought you were aware of this but crying is something all humans do.”

Dean glares at his brother, “When was the last time you cried over a video about a happy dog?”

“What?”

“Is it usual to cry when you think it’s Tuesday but realize that it’s Wednesday?” He picks up the pad of paper, “How about when you’re hung over and you see a picture of a guinea pig?” Dean raises his eyebrows. “Do you cry over the bunker not being able to sustain potted plants? Or because we’re out of cookies?” Dean sets down the pen and flips the page, “Ever cried during a documentary when the fluffy bunny escapes the fox?”

“Give the guy some credit, Dean. Cas is new to having emotions, he’s bound to be a little sensitive.”

“Sam, this morning he cried when I made him French toast for breakfast.”

Sam lets a little smile inch onto the corner of his mouth, “You made him French toast?”

Dean ducks his head as if he’s looking at the paper but Sam can see the blush he must be trying to hide. “It’s his favorite food and he’s been having nightmares the past coupl’a nights.”

“I didn’t know he was having nightmares.”

“No more than you ‘n me,” Dean brushes it off, “‘S pretty mild considering how much more shit he’s seen than us over the millennia. I’m gonna grab a drink. You want anything?” He says, already halfway out the room.

“Yeah,” Sam responds absently, eyes trained on the yellow pad of paper. He stands and leans across the table then picks it up to glance over it and follows his brother.

“He cried because he found out swans can be gay?”

“Yeah, and then again, a few days later when he remembered it. He kept repeating that he just thought it was really nice.” Dean roots around in the fridge, presumably for a snack, “I asked him if he didn’t already know that, considering how much shit he knows about everything. He told me he knew but he never _thought_ about it before.”

Sam scoffs and shakes his head. Dean comes up empty on the snack front but reaches for two beers.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, it’s probably just a phase.”

“I don’t care what’s going on,” he passes Sam a beer, “We gotta desensitize him.”

They walk back into the library. What they find is Cas standing by the edge of the table, list in hand.

“Cas,” Dean says – an analysis and observation more than a greeting.

“You keep track of when I cry?” He looks up at them with watery eyes, “Is it a bad thing? Am I doing something wrong?”

“No, it’s –“

“I am, aren’t I?” he asks in a shaky voice, “It’s not normal.”

Dean walks over to him, “Come on, man,” he grabs the pad, putting it on the table and taking a hold of Cas’s wrist. Baby blues dart to the point of contact and then up to meet Dean’s eyes. All Dean gets is a quivering lip to warn him before Cas lurches forward and buries his face in the crook of Dean’s neck, bursting into tears.

“You – you’re holding my _hand_ ,” he sobs.

Dean flushes scarlet, “Cas, I’m hardly- C’mon. Cas.” He looks helplessly to Sam, who watches pityingly at the ex-angel clinging to his brother. Dean is still holding the wrist and Cas has his fingers bunched in the front of Dean’s overshirt.

“I-I didn’t expect – And you- you’re-“ He chokes on his tears and presses himself closer to Dean. Dean rolls his eyes and wraps his free arm around the other man. Which, of course, only has Cas nuzzling into him. Dean bites the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting in any way to how endearing he finds that. He makes eye contact with Sam again, who raises his eyebrows; _‘You good?’_  
Dean nods and ever so slightly jerks his head to the right; _‘Yeah, go on. I got this.’_

Cas is still wetly heaving breath after breath so Dean just rubs big circles over his back until his breathing calms somewhat. When he thinks it’s safe to, Dean leans back a little to give them both some space. He ducks his head to catch Cas’s eye, “You good?”

Cas sniffs and makes eye contact but doesn’t respond.

Dean cups one side of his face in his hand to keep him from looking down, “Gimme a sign, buddy.” He wipes up a stray tear with his thumb. Cas closes his eyes in a near-pained expression and leans into the touch.

“What’s up?” Dean asks softly, “Hmm? What’s goin’ on in your head?

Cas’s breath hitches as he sucks in a lungful of air and sighs. “A lot of things - are very - overwhelming,” he chokes out.

“Yeah? Like what?” And he knows he sounds patronizing, as if he were talking to a child, but Cas seems so fragile in this moment.

“Everything,” Cas huffs as he leans forward and tucks himself against Dean once more.

Dean goes back to rubbing circles, “Anything in particular?”

Cas shrugs halfheartedly. It’s more like he’s bumping both of his shoulders into both of Dean’s. Dean, where he’s still clutching Cas’s wrist, rubs his thumb over the vein, hoping it will coax him into responding.

Cas sniffs a shaky breath. “You smell nice,” he mumbles.

“And that makes you want to cry?” Dean asks with a small smile Cas can’t see.

“No, it makes me want to stay like this forever.”

Dean swallows and lets that statement hang. Cas’s breath comes in little puffs against his collarbone where his nuzzling has pushed the t-shirt aside.

“Yeah?”  
_Fuck_ he sounds breathless. Even to his own ears.

Cas nods. Dean shivers when Cas takes another deep breath and sighs. The more it happens, the nicer the press of hot air feels against Dean’s skin.

“Does it help? With the crying?”

“Yes.”  
And it’s the most sure Cas has sounded since he renounced the value of sugar-free sweeteners last week.

“I- uh, I’ve never bought into it. But some people say that hugs are the best medicine,” Dean remarks if only to make conversation.

“I concur.”

“Okay,” Dean says thoughtfully, “Okay, well. You ever … feel down or freak out again, and-and need a hug, just come to me or Sam a-“

“Your hugs.”

“What?”

“ _Your_ hugs are the best medicine.”

Dean nervously wets his lips, “Yeah?”  
And shit, is that all he can say when Cas drops something like that on him?

Cas nods but asks, “Does the offer still stand?”

“’Course it does. I’m here for you man.”

Cas releases a small sigh, but this one sounds almost content.  
Dean realizes that they’ve been sort of swaying gently from side to side. He can’t bring himself to stop.

“I think I’m going to need a lot of hugs.”

Dean flushes heavily but with a smile in his voice, tells him, “Well, we’re off to a pretty good start.”

“You’re only hugging me.”

“So?”

“You’re hugging me, I’m not hugging you back,” he insists. And then he’s releasing Dean’s collar to slide his hands down Dean’s chest and around to settle in the concave of his back. The shushing of fabric as Cas maintains constant contact sends a tiny thrill of warmth through Dean.

“Better?” Dean asks.

“Much.” Cas’s grip tightens ever-so slightly.

The silence settles easily over the moment. _  
This is nice_ , Dean thinks. Without realizing it, his eyes slip shut.

“Does it just have to be when I’m sad?”

“Mmm?” Dean hums in question, eyes still closed.

“If I want a hug for no reason at all can I come to you for one?”

Dean’s expression twists thoughtfully and he pulls back, just enough to search his face.

“I-I like hugging you,” Cas stammers defensively. “You’re always warm a-and the way you rub my back is – it’s very nice.”  
Dean watches soft blush creep up his jawline.  
“I … enjoy being close to you.”

Dean bites down on the tip of his tongue.  “We’re always kinda close to each other, aren’t we?”

“Not this close. This is better.”

Dean shifts forward enough so that their noses are nearly brushing together. Cas’s pupils dilate and Dean isn’t sure if the next breath is going to come to him.

“Like this?” he asks.

“We …” Cas swallows audibly, “We could be … closer.”

“Could we?”

Cas’s eyes lock onto Dean’s lips, and Dean answers his own question by leaning forward to kiss him.

Their mouths meet softly and slowly but the response is instantaneous. Cas’s body loses all tension as he completely relaxes into Dean. There’s neediness in the action, and Dean’s response isn’t much better. He pulls Cas in tighter even as he feels their mouths separating.

Cas looks up at him with wide, wary eyes and Dean can’t help but lean forward so their lips nearly brush, to ask, “Did that help too?”

Cas swallows looking like he feels guilty as sin for enjoying it.

Dean asks, “Can I do it again?”

A small, hiccup of a whine is all that escapes Cas he’s nodding and it’s brushing their lips against one another and Dean can’t keep from sealing them together.

They can’t have been separated for more than half a second before Cas is panting, “Could I kiss _you_ now?”

Dean doesn’t bother with arguing that they’ve kind of both been participants so far. He nods and waits eagerly as Cas leans with a tender press of barely-parted lips. It doesn’t pick up right from where they left off, it isn’t as heavy. But he draws Dean into compliance and soon Cas is leading the show (which Dean thinks is all kinds of hot). Cas ends the kiss and Dean chases it but stops when he sees him biting his lower lip.

Cas licks his lips, “How often can I do that?”

“As often as you want, angel.” Dean will coach him on the caveats later. Right now he’s enjoying the blush and the barest sliver of a smile Cas is displaying. Both of which he intends to kiss right off that pretty little face.

And he does.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> It was very, very weird for me to write Cas this sad and vulnerable but I think it was an interesting experience.  
> The gay swans were my favorite part.  
> Crossposted from my [tumblr](http://fem-castielnovak.tumblr.com/post/134484774830/the-crying-list).
> 
> Exits are to your left, your right, and your rear, restrooms are to the front, Kudos and comments are found below, and as always, very appreciated. Thank you for flying Air fem-castielnovak.


End file.
